Man I almost got all wicked nostalgic tonight when I cracked a Victory Storm King. For some fucking reason the goddamn Wallflowers popped up all in my head. Then I started thinking about the retarded fucking name of this beer. Storm King. Really? That’s like Counting Crows’ “Rain King.” And then I realize that album came out more than half my life ago. Too bad Kevorkian’s gone. Seriously, I’m feeling all three-fifths of a person after remembering this song, as it’s been around for that much of my life and I think Adam Duritz was sum sort of mulatto.
Don Storm Martin Luther King.
This shit is a fucking maltgasm of fucking power and all roasted like King David if he were alive in Hitlerian times. This shit as all balls-to-the-wall with the darkness, yet the hops bring a brightness to the surface. It’s all like The Help‘s being nominated for best picture in the fucking Oscars and whatnot, all shiny and superficial and making white people think they’ve done something worth a shit for black people, ever. Nonetheless it’s good as fuck and I would drink it right now and tomorrow morning if someone delivered it on my front fucking step like a milkman or some shit. That would be hell of cool. God I would drink some fucking Dark Intrigue right now.
